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JAROSLAW.
15
Now raise the Christians walls on high,
All in the gloom of night,
And trenches dig around the hill
Before the morning light.
When in the east it dawn’d, arose
The whole camp of the foe,
The camp, that stretch’d around the hill
Farther than eye can go.
Upon their horses swift they crowd,
And heads of Christians slain
They hear upon their lances
To the tent of Kublay Khan.
Into a single mass collects
Itself the multitude,
And towards one side their course they bend,
Rushing with onset rude
To storm the hill, loud uttering
An all-terrific cry,
That hills and vales resound again
And echo fearfully.
Upon the walls the Christians stood,
God’s Mother courage gave,
And quick their pliant bows they draw,
And fierce their falchions wave;
